All Or Nothing: Part II free porn video

(This is Part II of All or Nothing. It begins almost exactly where Part I left off, so if you haven't read Part I, you will probably get very lost very quickly.) All or Nothing: Part II By Trisha By the time the next match, started, I was hooked. We were all hooked. Every single one of us wanted to keep doing it. And we did. Three more times that evening another set of wrestlers vied for their promotions and three more times the loser was turned into a bimbo bombshell while the winner became even more manly. Three more times we ended the match in a gluttonous orgy. We never tired. In fact, the experience only seemed to be more intense each time. It was fantastic. By the end of the evening (actually closer to about four in the morning), our wives were completely naked and literally dripping with cum. I had blown my wad in her face and, as she climaxed, she had begun to kiss a similarly cum-masked Amy, Kyle's wife. And they loved it! They wanted more! When we got home, Angela and I were so exhausted that we could hardly step out of our rumpled, torn clothes. We slept until two o'clock in the afternoon the next day and it was only then that we talked about what had happened and what we were going to do next. Matheson had laid it all out to us before we left. He said that there were now eight Level 7 positions open (four had move up and four had "moved on") and that Ted, Kyle, and I would all be given the chance to win a promotion during the next set of matches the following month. But before we could make a decision about the future, first we had to make sense of what happened in the past. "That was the most amazing thing I have ever experienced," Angela told me. "Watching someone so completely dominate and humiliate someone like that just pressed all of my buttons, I guess. I started to think about all the women in the crowd and how many of them had been men, totally robbed of their manhood, totally robbed of their own free will. I didn't know sex could be like that." "Yeah, it was amazing," I said. "I thought the same thing." "And I came!" she said excitedly. "I actually climaxed four times!" "I know," I said, chagrinned that I had been able to make her cum before, but still happy that it finally happened. "You know remember what Matheson had said about the wives?" she asked. I nodded. Matheson said that the wives of the wrestlers rode the same gamble as their husbands. If your husband won, you won too. You held control over the slave just like your husband. If he lost, though, you lost with him, and you spent the rest of your days as the submissive to your husband's new master (and mistress). It was an all or nothing venture. Win, and you win everything. New car, new house, a huge raise, and your very own slave or even slaves. "And if you beat someone who already has slaves," Angela added excitedly, "you inherit them too." Matheson said he had twenty-two slaves, most of whom he had working as a dancer at the Mason Getaway or as a maid for one of his houses. He said he would use them all occasionally for sex, but that his only constant was Vicki who, as he said, was "special" to him. "What was that deal about the Great Master, though?" I asked. "That was never fully explained. Was that for real or was that a gimmick?" "It must be real," Angela said matter-of-factly. "How else would you explain what happened? How else would you explain those transformations? Those were no magic tricks." "I'm just wondering how smart it is to keep going to this," I told her. "I mean, I don't want to turn into some kind of Satanist or something." "Oh no," she said defiantly, seeing where I was headed. "We're not backing out now! This is so typical of you, Brandon. I finally found something that would turn me on and you finally get a chance at improving yourself. And what do you do? You run away from it. Not this time." "What are you talking about?" I said, trying not to raise my voice but not doing a very good job. "Ending up like Fred Benson doesn't look to me like much of an improvement." "You've already told yourself you're going to lose. No wonder." "It wouldn't be just me who loses, either," I reminded her. "Do you want to end up stripping at the Mason Getaway or filing papers the rest of your life as somebody's bimbo secretary?" "You have no confidence," she pleaded. "This could make us big and you refuse to see it. You wrestled in high school. You even went to state." "That was against people my own size," I said. "Not these behemoths." "Matheson said you'd only be wrestling other Level 9's, guys that have never done this before. With your wrestling experience, you would have the advantage." "I'm tired," I told her. "I need time to rest. And think." +++ That Monday, I went back to work still unsure as to what to do. My mind, needless to say, was not on the work before me and I found myself staring blankly at the walls of my cubicle. The only way to advance in Mason and Mason was to compete at the Mason Getaway. The only future I had, then, was staying and playing by their rules or by taking my chances with another company. At lunch, I went out with Ted and Kyle and we talked about what to do next. Ted was all for it, but Kyle still wasn't so sure. "It's such a big gamble," he said. "I'm not real happy with the way my life is right now, but it's sure as hell better than what would happen if I get in that ring and lose." "What does Amy think?" I asked. "She's completely into it," he said. "I've never seen her like this. It's like she doesn't realize what the possible consequences are, not only for me, but for her." "Neither does Angela," I said. "Do you think they put some sort of spell over all of us?" Kyle asked. "I mean, I can't believe I'm even considering such a thing. I can't be thinking rationally." "After what we saw, I have to think something like that might be the case. Certainly something happened to us Saturday night. Maybe it was a spell. Maybe our champagne was drugged. Jesus, I don't know. And the girls are acting even worse than us. Isn't that suspicious?" "I think the girls are just seeing it the right way," Ted argued. "Life is all about risk. Think about what you'd be risking by working for someone else right now. You'd be dead-ended into a position in no time. Mason and Mason at least gives you an opportunity for success. They at least give you a chance to advance." "And if you lose?" Kyle asked. "If you lose, you die. It's as simple as that," Ted said bluntly. "Those guys that lose don't even know what happened to them. They get brainwashed and everything they did gets forgotten. Sure, you're risking your life, but you're doing that anyway." "Level 7 gets quite a bit, too," I said. "Company car. A new house. A huge paycheck." "And, let's face it," Ted said. "It doesn't hurt to have some bimbo suck you off whenever you feel like it." Kyle and I only gave a small, courtesy laugh at that. I think we were both imagining being that bimbo. "And what if we have to fight each other?" Kyle asked. "Nope," Ted said assuredly. "I specifically asked Matheson about that. He said it wouldn't happen. There's eight slots and we'll only be fighting for three of them. And NOT with each other." "I still don't like it," I said. "What are you so worried about anyway, Brandon?" Ted said. "You were the one on the wrestling team." +++ By the end of the week, I knew that I was going to do it. And it wasn't because of Ted or Angela, for a new company car or even a big cock. I wanted to do it because the thought of dominating another man like that made me randier than a teenage boy in a whorehouse. Every time I thought about having control over another person like that, a person with a supermodel figure no less, I could barely resist the urge to jerk off. Angela and I were fucking like bunnies because every time we talked about the events at the Mason Getaway or the possibility of entering and winning a match, we would get turned on. As for the possibility of losing a match, Angela said it best herself. "I've got to admit," she told me. "The risk of becoming someone's sex toy only makes it more of turn-on. It's kill or be killed." And though I said otherwise, I silently agreed. It was like gambler's fever. The thrill of putting everything on the line. What was happening to me!? What was happening to all of us? Ted, of course, was for it right away and I doubt he even considered another option after Saturday night. Kyle was still the most hesitant. But Amy prodded him on and, in the end, he agreed. Like me, I think part of the reason was that he was afraid to wimp out in front of his wife. For whatever reason, the women really wanted us to do it and though I knew that none of us were really thinking properly, it didn't seem to matter. I only wanted to do it. By that Friday, I told Matheson I would. +++ The next month went by very, very slowly. Only Level 8s and above were allowed to go to the Mason Getaway without an invitation (and even then, the only ones who had unlimited access were Level 6s and above). At the same time, I found that I cared very little about my job performance. I was, after all, a lame duck. Either way, win or lose, I wouldn't be coming back to my cubicle. So what did it matter? I started looking at myself differently in the mirror, imagining the changes that I would go through if I lost. My mind would only go so far before I forced myself to stop. That sort of attitude was only going to make sure that I lost. I must have changed my mind about a dozen times, but I was always drawn back to it. Angela, on the other hand, seemed to never reconsider. She couldn't wait until my match and she only allowed herself to say the most confident-building things to me. In the meantime, I worked out some. I didn't know how effective that would be only a month before, but I figured that as long as I didn't overdo it, it wouldn't hurt. I also taught a few of the tactics I learned while I was on the wrestling team to Ted and Kyle. Again, I didn't know if it was going to help or not. But it might give them something extra to work with, I thought. We each found out who we'd be wrestling about two weeks before the match. Ted was wrestling a man named Russ Lornham, a new recruit like us all who worked on the third floor. Russ was tall, but rather skinny and I thought Ted could take him okay. Kyle would be going against, of all people, Tyler Reeve. There was certainly no question as to how I wanted that one to turn out. I definitely wanted Kyle to win and I definitely didn't mind if Tyler to lost. If anyone deserved losing, it was Tyler. I would be fighting, I found out, Ryan Phoebes, a 160 pound man from the floor below me. We talked only sparingly. Neither of us, I think, wanted to get to know the other one too well. This wasn't a personal thing. I just wanted to win and so did he. Angela, however, didn't see it that way. Instead she let her journalistic instincts go crazy and compiled as much information on Ryan and (especially) his wife, Sara, that she could. She was so obsessed, I thought she would jinx me for sure. She knew where they had gone to school, what jobs they had worked, and even what people they knew. There didn't seem to be any major fact about their life, public or private, which she didn't know about. Ryan had been hired at the same time as me. He hung out with, of all people, Tyler Reeve. Sara taught biology at the nearby university. She was a tan, brown-haired little beauty and I had to admit that the thought of "acquiring" her was certainly attractive. Still, as much as I wanted her, Angela wanted her more. Her eyes lit up every time she discussed the possibility of controlling someone else completely and though I had never really known her to have bisexual tendencies (she once kissed a girl her freshman year of college), at least part of her excitement seemed to be sexual. She wanted to dominate Ryan and Sara in every way and she couldn't wait to do it. Further, to hear her talk, it was though I had already won the match or, at the very least, it was a given that I would win. "You just have to tell them to do something and they will," she said. "You can tell them they've lost their human voice, that they can only bark like a dog, and they'll believe you. They are totally within your power." Yes, I thought, totally. The idea more than appealed to me. But then, on its heels, came another thought, one not so appealing. Perhaps it wouldn't be me that had the power. Perhaps it would be THEM. +++ And then one morning I woke up and realized that it was the big day. Angela and I went into the country for picnic and tried to get our minds off what might happen that evening. To a small degree it worked, though certainly not completely. When we got back into town, however, the match was all that Angela could talk about. I had about five pounds on Ryan which wasn't much, but she talked about it as though it were going to make all the difference in the world. At about five o'clock, a limousine picked us up and took us to the Mason Getaway, well before any of the regular guests showed up. Ted and Kyle were already there, along with their wives, as was many of our other fellow contestants. None of us talked much. At this point, I think we all realized that it was far too late to back out now. I had no doubt that if I ran they would kill me, though they never made any such threat directly. Matheson was there and he introduced us all to the "priest," whose name was Wendell. I knew I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself. I asked him how the magic worked. What caused the transformations? But he avoided any sort of satisfactory answer. "Only the Great Master knows," he said. "We only convey the ceremony. We do nothing else." I was getting nervous and so, I think, were the rest of the guys. Even Ted, for all of his confidence earlier, seemed withdrawn into his own thoughts. "You can mix with the crowd before or not," Matheson said. "If not, you can wait downstairs in one of the anterooms. The wives, meanwhile, have to wait in a different anteroom until the show starts." "Right now?" Angela asked. "I'm afraid so," Matheson. "Sometimes people get cold feet at the last second and it's best if you can have some time to yourself." That is, where they can watch you, I thought. "Why don't you show them down, Wendell," he told the priest. "The men can do what they want for now. Anybody want to start waiting in the anteroom right away?" I shook my head. So did the other guys. I don't think anyone wanted to go down there until they had to and I was glad they were a little more lenient with the men. I guess they figured that there would be less chance of one of us running if we had to leave our wives behind. We were all standing around when the last wrestler, Tyler, showed up with his wife Nadia, a comely, tall brunette. She wore a fancy, sequined dress that looked quite expensive. It made her rather dazzling, I must admit, even elegant. Almost enough, even to make up for Tyler. Almost. "Ready to be my little sweet piece of ass?" Tyler asked Kyle, laughing, once Nadia had been escorted downstairs to wait with the rest of the wives. Kyle blanched a little. He had no comeback. Nobody was prepared for any trash talk, though if anyone was going to do it, it was going to be Tyler. "Those are some pretty strong words for someone who's not even going to have a set of balls by the end of the night," I said. "Why don't you worry about winning before you worry about running your mouth off." "He's just letting off steam," Ryan, my opponent, said suddenly and I remembered that he was friends with Tyler. "But I'm going to let you suck his dick later on, so you better be nice to him." "Or maybe he'll let me at Angela," Tyler told me. "I've been curious about her for a long time." I stared at them in rage. I couldn't help it. Normally, I considered myself to be a pretty well-tempered individual. But this was no normal situation. This was do or die, now or never, and we knew that some of us would never be able to talk trash again. I turned away and faced the rest of the Getaway. The place looked funny when it was empty. They already had the fountain on and the tables and chairs set up, but there was none of the hustle and bustle it had to it the last time I had been there. In the corner, the waitresses chatted about clothes and men. Last month, they had worn conservative skirts and blouses. This month, however, conservatism was thrown to the wind. Every one of them wore string bikinis. And, oh my, were they sexy. Each one could have easily been a Playboy model. Bored and antsy, Ted and I went over to talk to them. Kyle, for whatever reason, stayed behind. "Hello," Ted smiled. The girls smiled back. "What's your name?" he asked one of the blondes. "Stacey," she said. "What's yours?" "Ted, and this is Brandon." "That's nice." "So what's your story, Stacey?" he asked. "How did you come to work here?" "I wanted an airplane," she said. "An airplane?" "I wanted an airplane," she repeated, as though the connection should have been obvious to us. "I was, like, working and all, but see, I really wanted an airplane and so I needed to get a raise to get one. I love to fly." Her story wasn't very coherent, but I pieced it together. "You were trying to get a promotion that would have included your own private jet," I summarized for her. "That's right." "But then you lost your match downstairs," I said. "That's right. But, like, get this. It doesn't really matter anyway because the guy that pinned me, Jerry, is so supercool. He lets me fly in his airplane ALL the time. If he's got to go to some, like, meeting or something, he'll let me go with him. Me and this other girl, Trisha, we play stewardess, you know, only we're not really, you know, stewardesses, and we can serve drinks and food and whatever and then he'll like let us suck his cock, which is like so, so fun." "You like that?" I asked. "Totally. Jerry's cock is like so big. And sometimes he has friends with him which is just as fun." The girl next to Stacey, another blonde, slapped her playfully on the ass. "You are such a tramp," she told Stacey. "So are you," Stacey giggled, grabbing the other girl on the nipple and giving it a pinch. "Ouch!" the other girl cried and they both laughed. "Like what you see?" I heard Matheson's voice behind me. I turned to meet him. Ted and I were both silent as he approached. He turned to Stacey. "Stacey used to be Calvin Crenshaw, one of our greatest marketers," he said. "Rich, powerful, influential. He'd been invited to the White House twice. He had two yachts and he loved flying airplanes. But then he got a little greedy and... well... show Ted and Brandon your ass, Stacey." Stacey blushed a little. "This is just so embarrassing," the former man said, but turned around and bent over anyway without really putting up a fight. On Stacey's left buttcheek was a simple black tattoo, which read: "Jerry's Little Cock Gobbler." "Standard practice," Matheson told us, patting the girl on the tattoo. "Sometimes its on the ass. Sometimes even on the face. Tell me Stacey. Do you ever miss being Calvin?" "Sometimes," Stacey replied. "I used to get really sad. But now, just like Jerry says, happiness is just one big dick away! Can I suck YOUR dick, Mr. Matheson?" I felt sick. I decided I had enough visiting with the waitresses. In fact, I decided I had had enough period. "I'll go down to the anteroom now and wait for the match," I said. "Alright," Matheson, openly amused at our predicament. +++ It was a long wait, but it was better than mingling with the other guests and especially with the waitresses. On any other day, perhaps, they would have only turned me on. But now, with an uncertain fate waiting before me, I wanted to think about them as little as I could. As it got closer and closer to midnight, the time when the events would start, more and more of the guys started to file in. As it was last month, there were nine of us: the priest and the eight wrestlers. Though there were eight open slots, not all of them could be filled at once. Four of the slots would be filled tonight. Four next week. It was a big room, big enough for fifty people, but it still seemed cramped when we were all in it. As before, no one talked. Even Tyler and Ryan were silent, though they still had looks that could kill. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, each one knowing that no matter what, half of us would have to lose. There were no draws at the Getaway. At ten 'til midnight, the priest told us to doff our clothes and form a line. Kyle and Tyler would be first. Then it would be Ted's match with Russ Lornham. Then mine with Ryan Pheobes. Then the fourth one between two guys from the third floor, Peter Franklin and Shad Harrison. Each of us must have felt like the loneliest guys in the world and yet, ironically, despite our mutual worries, we were also the last people on the face of the planet that could console one another. Then Wendell, the priest, said it was time and the door opened. The underground arena, which had been completely empty when I had last seen it four hours before, was now completely packed, just as it had been a month before. And just like a month before, the wrestlers were escorted down to the mat by the priests, heads straight forward, backs upright, and not a stitch of clothing on. When we got to the center, Wendell yelled, "Enter the ring!" and as we did just that, we yelled, "Praise to the Great Master!" Then Wendell took his shiny knife and we each raised our arms. I was the fifth one cut and I braced myself to show no emotion. To my surprise I barely felt it. I went to the side of the ring with rest, sitting uncomfortably in the chair provided. Then the first match was on. Kyle and Tyler took to their corners and waited to start. I glanced across the ring at Angela who had been given a seat in the front row along with Amy and Cynthia and the other's wives. When I turned back to the ring, Kyle and Tyler had locked up. As fellow wrestlers, Wendell told us that we were not supposed to root for one or the other and, as a general rule, we were just supposed to sit quietly until it was our turn to fight. Still, it was hard not to shout out any support for Kyle. We had known each other for so long and to see him in so much danger now was very distressing. It happened very quickly. Tyler took the advantage from the start. He had Kyle leaned back so as to almost teeter him completely, but somehow Kyle held on. He twisted Tyler from the shoulder, gaining leverage just like I had shown him he could by placing his right foot outwards. Then he managed to get behind Tyler's leg with his left foot and, with one swift movement, swept Tyler off his feet. The move might have been ingenious had Kyle thought more about what would happen afterwards. If he had negotiated it correctly, he might have been able to land on Tyler and fall into a pin. Instead, Tyler landed on Kyle. Kyle screamed in frustration as he turned to pull Tyler off of him, but Tyler had his whole weight behind him and he was able to easily overpower Kyle. In a matter of seconds, he had him pinned. And just like the month before, the two began to change. At first, of course, the most obvious change came in Kyle. His body shrank. His hair grew. His hips widened. His tits fattened. His face reformed itself into that of a beautiful woman's. He could have been Elizabeth Hurley's well-endowed sister. Total metamorphosis. But the transformation for the winner was much more pronounced this time since this was Tyler' first win. His muscles bulged out to twice their previous size, his jaw seemed to square a little, and his average-sized dick noticeably lengthened. Tyler held Kyle down the entire time and the winning pin move now became the de-virginizing missionary position. The crowd screamed in approval. Tyler mugged for his audience some, then released Kyle's arms and playing with his toy's brand new tits. "Fuck her! Fuck her!" the audience chanted. I saw that many of them were already half-undressed. Matheson, behind the front row wives, was again getting serviced by Vicki. Amy, Kyle's wife, sat right in front of him. Her wide eyes said that she couldn't believe what was happening. I looked at Angela who couldn't have acted more cold. In fact, I saw her congratulating Tyler's wife, Nadia. My attention turned back at the ring. Tyler said something to Kyle that I couldn't make out and then, without hesitation, rammed himself into his slave's newly acquired pussy, inspiring more cheers from the crowd. The place had now officially hit the level of an all-out orgy. Kyle bucked wildly beneath Tyler, but he wasn't trying to get away. His girl's face twisted in pleasure, saying only that he was loving it. His tongue curled in sensual joy and he panted like a wild animal. It was now final. Kyle was completely a woman. He-she-would never go back. On the other side, I saw a commotion among the wives. Nadia had yanked up her sequin dress and was spreading her legs in the chair to allow Amy, her new slave, to lick her pussy. Amy seemed to be doing it quite willingly, though Nadia was helping her along, pushing her head deeper into her crotch with the rhythm of the licking. My wife, meanwhile, seemed not disturbed at the events in the least and was gently caressing Amy's exposed behind as the woman ate away at Nadia. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't seem to help it. Tyler Reeve or not, Kyle Hadley or not, I was just as aroused by it all as Angela was. Glancing over at Ted, I could see that he was too. It was hard to hide it when you were completely naked. It was very strange, but it was almost as if Kyle had just never existed. I still didn't very much care for Tyler, but my friendship and loyalty with Kyle was mostly forgotten. And it wasn't only horniness that was clouding my mind (though there certainly was a measure of that). It was just that Kyle had become a non-factor. He had played and he had lost. This was survival of the fittest and, put simply, he wasn't fit enough. And yet there was still a small voice inside of me asking me what the fuck I was doing here. In an hour or so, I might become one of those "non-factors," just like Kyle. But another voice, a stronger one, said that I might become quite a big factor. I might become more powerful than I had ever before imagined. As usual, the resulting orgy of a match lasted two or three time longer than the match itself and, though I was hornier than all hell, I had to just sit and wait it out. When the wholesale sex romp finally subsided, Tyler and Kyle exited the ring and came back to sit with us. Well, Tyler came back to sit at least. Kyle came back to kneel between Tyler's legs and play with his new master's man- meat. Nadia, Tyler' wife, came over too and sat in Kyle's old seat, Amy right behind her. And just as Kyle put his head between the legs of Tyler, Amy's head came in between Nadia's spread legs, poised to eat out the cunt before her at a moment's notice. "You like that, slut?" Tyler asked his kneeling slave. He turned to the rest of us, smiling triumphantly. "Her name is now Kitty. Kitty Cockslut. Do you like that new name, Kitty?" "Oh yes," Kitty said in his new high voice, giving a little laugh as if it were the silliest question in the world. His tiny hands, meanwhile, eagerly wrapped themselves his Master's big cock, which now looked even bigger than I had first guessed. Maybe eight inches, I thought. Maybe nine! Ted and Russ now stepped onto the mat, eyeing each other cautiously. They circled around one another a few times, keeping their distance, looking for any sign of weakness, any kind of opportunity to strike. Finally, though, and simultaneously, they struck, and right away, Ted seemed to be winning. He pushed Russ down on the mat in the corner, almost out of the arena altogether. But before he could fall on him, Russ got up. Next to me, Tyler was playing with "Kitty's" hair. "Tell me what you remember about your previous life, Kitty," he said cruelly. Kitty could hardly pay attention to Tyler's words. He was nearly hypnotized by the huge, meaty erection in his hands. His mouth was literally salivating at the sight of it. "I remember all of it," he finally said, much to my surprise. With such an enormous change in personality (not to mention appearance), I had figured that most or perhaps all of the past was forgotten, that for all intents and purposes the old Kyle was gone. "Do you miss it?" Tyler asked. "No," Kitty said, his voice wavering, though his eyes not moving from the prize of flesh before him. It was clear that some internal struggle was going on inside him. His two personalities were fighting each other out. "Why not?" "Because before I couldn't suck your cock," Kitty said and I could see that tears were starting to roll down his cheeks. The new Kitty was now winning over the old Kyle. "Before I didn't even want to suck cock. Before I was a man and I didn't want cock at all." "But now you do?" "Yes," he said, crying. "I would do anything to suck yours right now." "Anything?" Tyler asked, mock-incredulous. "Please," he said, for the first time taking his eyes off of the swollen member in his hands and looking up into his master's face. "Just tell me what you want me to do." "I want you to tell Amy over here what a slut you really are," Tyler said, gesturing to Kyle's former wife who was now looking over the thin, sweat-drench thigh of Nadia. Nadia smiled at her husband approvingly. "I want you to tell her how much more you like getting cock than you ever did giving it." "I love my Master's cock," Kitty told Amy, still caressing it in his hands. His voice, though sad, did not carry the pause of regret. "And I would do anything to get my mouth on it or to get my pussy around it. I love my new pussy so much. It feels sooo good. I might be nothing but a whore now, but I wouldn't want to be anything else." "You always made a pathetic lover," Amy said suddenly, apparently unbidden but I could tell from a glance between her and Nadia that they had planned this before they came over. Her practiced words confirmed it. "Your dick was much too small and you never knew how to use it. Well, now you get to see what a real man can do." Despite Amy's obviously rehearsed manner, Kitty seemed genuinely hurt by her words. "Slut!" he yelled at his former wife. "Bimbo!" Amy yelled back. Tyler and Nadia broke into thunderous laughter, as did some of the people in the rows behind us. This was clearly just as much of the show to them as the wrestling match in progress. With the strange events going on around me, I had forgotten about the match. I looked at the ring. Ted and Russ were now rolling around on the floor, squirming and clawing for any kind of leverage over the other. Arms and legs were moving so quick that it was difficult to see who might be winning. And then, all at once, Ted was on top, pushing Russ down to the mat with all his might, his weight sitting on Russ' chest. It was over. Ted had won. The crowd roared. The wrestlers changed. The crowd went into a sexual frenzy. I might have started to get used to this, if it hadn't been my turn to step into the ring. The interim between Ted's victory and my match gave me plenty to think about, most of which I would have preferred to ignore altogether. As Ted "consummated" his new relationship in the ring with Russ, now a buxom blonde bombshell with a sharp craving for penises, I was forced to sit and watch Kitty diligently knobbing Tyler, grunting like wild beast while Tyler called him names. "You stupid little cocksucker," he told him. "Do you know what I'm going to do to your wife? I'm going to break her wide open. I'm going make her scream like she's never screamed before. And you're just going to sit by and love it. You're going to beg me to let you lick the seed out of her when I'm through." "Mmmmph, mmmmph," Kitty said appreciatively through the cock in his mouth. "Lick harder," Nadia ordered Amy, pulling the girl's head into her crotch with both hands. "You worthless tramp. Harder!" The moaning from the crowd slowly escalated up, louder and louder, promising to explode at any moment. That would be my cue. I would go up on the mat and everything would change after that. As Tyler blew his load into Kitty's mouth, pumping so much semen into him that it began to trickle out his lips and down his chin, I began to get a very sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I suddenly knew that I was going to lose. I knew that I was going to end up just like Kyle: a cheap, stupid bimbo sucking on Ryan Pheobe's dick for the rest of forever. Somehow, though, I picked myself up and stepped toward the ring, taking one last look at Kitty who was busy scooping the cum he had drooled on his tits back into his mouth. "Oh my gawd," he said excitedly in his schoolgirl voice. "I never knew it tasted this great!" There really was no turning back now. This was the moment. I had to put all other thoughts aside and just concentrate on winning this match, whatever it took. Ryan and I stepped into the ring side by side, but immediately took opposite corners. And then it was on. I didn't know exactly what I was going to do, but I knew I shouldn't rush it. I circled him for a minute, sizing up, weighing my options. The trick, as I saw it, was to get him on the mat first, not pull him down with me as Kyle had done. I needed to be patient. He charged me and I dodged, letting him fly by me. He was running so hard that he momentarily stepped off the mat. The rules were that opponents had to stay within the sixty by sixty foot mat, but going outside of it unintentionally was tolerated. And what if you did it intentionally, I had asked? Matheson said no one had ever really tested it. No one had dared. I certainly wasn't going to be the first. We circled some more. One member of the audience booed, but all else was silent. Ryan ran at me again, leveling me in the chest and sending me down on the mat. He toppled with me, sending us down together. For a second, I was dazed and he pushed himself on top. It was enough to incapacitate me and he drove his arm against shoulder. "I think I'm going to name you Bambi," Ryan grunted, as he pushed me to the mat. Down below, I could feel him getting an erection. He had me and he knew it. The crowd started to cheer, waiting for the pin. It seemed inevitable now, even to me. I gave up. I started thinking about the life in front of me. Kitty sucking Tyler's cock like it was candy. Stacey and her (his?) tattoo. Vicki and her enormous, lovely breasts. Angela, tortured along side me, getting fucked at will by Ryan Pheobe while I begged him to fuck me in the ass. Desperation hit my veins like jolt of electricity and, before I knew it, I had thrown Ryan off. Just like that. Nobody, not even I, saw it coming. The crowd roared louder than I had ever heard them. This was getting exciting for them. Ryan and I rolled away from each other, back to our corners to regroup and get our heads straight. A moment before, we both thought that it was over. He still had a semi-erection to show for it. He charged me again and, like I did the first time, I dodged, but not completely. I made sure to leave my foot sticking out, tripping him. Ryan hit the floor immediately, full slam, right on his face. He had never seen trip coming and it took him a moment to realize what had happened. A moment was all I needed. I pounced, careful not to over-commit myself and get into a rolling match with him. If we did start to roll around, I probably would still have the advantage, however, that wasn't the plan. The plan was to take it conservatively. Not take any unnecessary chances. Ryan tried to roll out from underneath me, but I was too fast. I caught him belly down and, though he was a lot more slippery than I had imagined (sweaty skin is very hard to get a hold of), I managed to keep him on his belly, grabbing his ankle and pulling it back. Pulling it back for the pin. I won. I couldn't believe it. Neither could Ryan. "Goddamn it!" he screamed in frustration, trying to fight free, but even as he did he began to change. A feeling of power like I had never before felt overwhelmed me, hitting me like a warm wash of water or the heat of the sun. There is no proper way to describe it. My body began to swell, to grow, and the more it did ,the more invincible I felt. From an outside perspective, the transformations looked like they might be painful or at least discomforting. Not for me. I had never experienced anything so powerful. When it finally stopped, less than a minute later, I was left with the most incredible sense of euphoria. I had tried cocaine once and it was similar to that, only much, much more intense. I really believed, at least for a moment or two, that I was invulnerable, unstoppable, like I had the whole world by the balls. Then I looked down and saw Ryan underneath me. Poor, poor Ryan. Strangely, I was a little surprised to see him so transformed. I had been so overcome by my own change that I hadn't noticed his. But now I did. And my enlarged cock was now hardening to show that it had noticed too. Ryan was now quite a sight. The first thing I noticed was his hair. He'd had brown hair before, but the transformation had, like it had so many, turned it blonde. I grabbed the hair and pulled him up to all fours, giving him a good inspection. He had shrunk and reshaped into the hourglass figure, of course, just like the rest. His body hair was gone and his voice had changed. He dick and balls were gone without a trace, leaving only a cunt. I had seen it all before with others, but this was different. This one was mine. All mine. I ran my hand under her breasts and down to his perfect ass, then back up her spine to his hair. I was quite satisfied with my new toy and I told him so. "Welcome to your new life," I said, rubbing my new eight inch tool down his asscrack. Then I added: "Bambi." At the touch of my erection, Bambi whimpered a little for help, but then, as I rubbed it against his new pussy he began to moan. "Put it in me!" he pleaded. "You don't want it bad enough," I told him, rubbing it against him more. "Oh I swear to God I do!" he cried. "Please! I'll do anything! Make me your whore! Make me your bitch! Just fuck me! Please!" I rammed it in, slapping him on the ass and making him scream. "More! More! Don't stop!" "I'm going to fuck your wife just like this," I told him, grabbing him hard by the hips. "How do you like that?" "I don't care!" he cried, closing his eyes in bliss. "You're my bitch now, Ryan," I said, grunting with pleasure. "I want you to remember yourself as a man. I don't want you to ever forget what you were. I want you to think about that every time I fuck you; every time I let you suck me off!" Bambi's hips hesitated a little as I said this and I smiled. I had struck a chord. Ryan WAS somewhere inside there. "I'm going to sell you out, too, Bambi," I grunted. "I'm going to let all of your old friends have a go at you and Sara. Doesn't that sound nice?" "Yes, yes," she panted, his spirit broken. "I want it." "Good," I said and, for the first time since the fight started, I looked out into the crowd. Bodies were swarming everywhere. Female heads were bobbing up and down. I saw my wife in the front row getting head from Sara. So this is what it was like to be center stage, I thought. This is what it was like to have all the power and to have the whole world celebrate that power. I knew right then that I'd return someday. +++ That night, we were all taken to our new house in a long, white stretch limousine. Angela and I sat in the far back seat, drinking champagne and toasting my promotion, while Bambi and Sara kneeled on the floor before us, waiting for instructions. They were like our little pets now and we planned to take very good care of them. Angela was more than just a little turned on by the new me. Now, she said, I was one hundred percent "real man." Not that she hadn't been too disappointed with the old me, she said. It was just that now, I was so much "better." Stronger, smarter, and better equipped. My cock, which had previously been (a small) five inches, was now eight inches long. She kept running her hands over my muscles and whispering dirty things into my ear. Our new "house" looked more like a modest mansion. It was three times the size of our old home. It had ten bedrooms, four baths, two kitchens, and a huge dining room, all fully furnished. It also had a small swimming pool and sauna. Angela suggested that Sara and Bambi (when he wasn't acting as my secretary) could be our maids and I thought that it was a great idea. That very next evening, Sunday night, she got them uniforms. Just as advertised, Bambi and Sara did everything we told them to do. If we told them to dance together they would. If we told them to hold their breath until they passed out (and this was a favorite of Angela's) they would. If we told them they were jealous of one another, they would sneer and try to tattle each other out. And we would punish them. Angela was the worst. She treated our "bitches" even more cruelly than I did, calling them all sorts of names and making them say and do the most humiliating things. Total control. Well, at least pretty close to total. Sometimes I would still catch a glimpse of the real person trapped inside. Maybe it was just a look or maybe it was just a certain inflection in their voice. Sometimes Bambi would stare off into space and I would wonder if it was Ryan thinking underneath. Sometimes it looked as though Sara was about to say something "out of character" and then stop herself. Underlying it all, was a sense of hostility, even hatred. Somewhere underneath, Bambi and Sara hated us. And we loved it. Work, meanwhile, turned from something dreaded and irritating to something satisfying and even fun. I, of course, moved up in salary and position (complete with my own medium-sized office) and I was given the very important job of personally handling the Jacobson account, one the richest (and most influential) families in the country. I played golf with Gerald Jacobson, the head of the family, every month and I helped "entertain" his son, Matthew, with a little help from Bambi. In fact, typically, Bambi and Matthew would be paired off together while the old man and I hit a round or two of links. Bambi loved it. He got to go to the Jacobson mansion and get treated like the high class whore he was for four or five hours and I loved it because it really scored a lot of points for me. Angela also pursued her work with even more vigor than before. When I watched her give the evening news, I could tell that something was different. She seemed to almost glow. She was on top of the world and so was I. We fell into a nice, comfortable routine. On the car ride to work in the morning (in the new company Porsche), I would let Bambi suck me off. He seemed to like it and it passed the time for me. At lunchtime, I would go out with Ted and a few others of the Level 8s I met. Sometimes we'd "bring the girls" and swap them around, just for the fun of it. Once, about a month or so after my promotion, I even swapped with Tyler. We still didn't care much for one another, but he nevertheless seemed to get a thrill from fucking Ryan and I certainly did fucking Kyle. I made Kitty beg me to fuck him in the ass and then made fun of him for it while I did it. At five thirty or so each day, Bambi and I would return home. Angela didn't get back until about two hours later and I got into the habit of watching her newscasts while Sara adoringly sucked my dick. Sometimes I would let Bambi join in and they would lick together, but most of the time, I preferred him to stand in the corner, getting me drinks and magazines or just watching the spectacle with envy. I always told Sara to make slurping sounds and, besides the dry voices coming from the television newscast, that was the only sound in the room. When I came, I never told her. I just let my seed spray the back of her throat and gurgle out her lips. But since I told her semen tasted better than anything she had ever eaten, she invariably gobbled up as much of it as she could. Then I would say something like: "You pathetic little, cum- sucking slut. Make sure you clean it all off." And then she would thank me. Since my transformation, I found that my sexual energy was almost inexhaustible. I never had enough. I was always ready for more. The same was true for Angela too, though in a much more sadistic way. Not that I hadn't become inhumanly cruel myself. It was only that Angela took such cruelty to another level. One Sunday night, after having a few drinks with some of the guys from work, I returned home to find several unusual cars in the driveway. When I entered, I found about six or seven men, all in their late teens or early twenties, sitting around the living room and watching a basketball game on the television. I didn't even stop to ask them who they were. I just kept on going. Angela was in the kitchen with Bambi and Sara. "What's going on?" I asked. "These are some of Sara's former students," Angela told me. "They all belong to the fraternity Kappa Omega Kappa, but almost lost their charter when Sara filed a sexual harassment suit against them last year." "Really?" I said, intrigued, looking over at Bambi and Sara. They were both wearing low-cut black blouses, short skirts that barely hid the fact that they were not wearing any panties, dark nylons, and some very uncomfortable- looking high heels. They also both looked a little frightened. "What happened?" "Apparently, a couple of the frat boys came on just a bit too strong for Sara's taste and she called human services," Angela said. "And they've come over tonight to patch things up?" I laughed. "Something like that, but not quite," Angela smiled. She turned to the slaves. "Are you ready?" They both nodded dutifully, picking up trays of beer from the counter. Then they were off to the T.V. room. There was an immediate barrage of catcalls and lewd comments. "You've outdone yourself," I told Angela. "I'm not done yet," she said. That night was fun. Angela and I watched quietly in the background as the frat boys were treated by their former teacher and her former husband. "I'm so sorry I failed you guys," Sara told them, sitting on the knee of one of them. "That was so stupid of me. Maybe I need a spanking." They all laughed. The boy she sat on, a big, dumb-looking jock type, maybe a football player, looked as though he was a little embarrassed by it all. All the same, he unzipped his jeans from underneath her and pulled out his dick. "Oooo!" Sara gasped as the erection poked against her naked backside. "You've got a big one." They laughed some more. "You're a lot more fun than you were in class," one of them said, a tall, deep-voiced kid. "What happened?" "I found out how good cock could be," she said without even blinking. The football player was now pulling her toward his dick. "Teaching was getting in the way of fucking... it just took so much time." "That's really fucked up," a skinny, brown haired kid commented, smiling broadly as Bambi came over to him. Then he said: "I like your friend." From there, it was only a matter of seconds before Sara was hopping her ass up and down on the football player's pole while she clutched her tits in ecstasy. Meanwhile, Bambi was giving head to the skinny kid, fingering his pussy to prepare it for a boy to enter from behind. And it was only a matter of seconds before one did, grabbing Bambi his round, beautiful ass underneath his skirt and sliding inside. The basketball game was now completely forgotten and groups of frat boys gathered around the two stars of show. "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" Sara panted with each quick breath, her voice hiccupping as she bounced. "Mmmm," Bambi moaned as he licked the teenager's balls. "I can't wait to see this thing go off! I want it all over my face!" He gave another lick at the base of the shaft near the balls and then, much to his surprise (and everyone else's), the frat boy did start to cum. He obviously hadn't been used to this kind of excitement. "Holy Jesus!" the skinny kid said. "Oh!" Bambi exclaimed as the cock in front of him spurted a vertical glob of semen from his hairline to his chin. The second and third spurts were even more powerful and in a few seconds, Bambi's face was drenched with jizz. "You got a hair trigger, Marshall," one of the other frat boys said, kidding him for such a quick ejaculation. Everyone laughed. Marshall was embarrassed. To regain his lost pride, he began to smear the cum on Bambi's face with his cock. "How do like that, you stupid slut?" he asked. "Oh yes," Bambi smiled, closing his eyes as Marshall began to wetly slap the former man's cheek with his dick. "She loves it!" he told his frat brothers and they all laughed. Sara giggled along too, though she didn't stop riding the football player. In fact, she didn't even slow down. Bambi was still getting banged from behind and now he concentrated on that, telling the boy to ride him "hard." The boy was more than happy to comply and the two instantly started grunting in unison together. It didn't take long before another kid kicked Marshall out of his seat and stuck his own dick in Bambi's jizz-drenched face. The teenager was so excited, I don't think the cum dripping from Bambi's mouth bothered him in the least. If anything, the degradation of it only turned him on more. "Suck it," he quietly demanded. When Bambi complied, however, he got a little bolder, grabbing the slave by the hair and controlling the rhythm himself. "Stupid whore," he said, rolling his head back in bliss. Together, over the course of the rest of the evening, the two slaves worked each of the frat boys over at least twice (and in one case four times). By the end, they were sore and exhausted, literally soaking in various stages of drying sperm. Kappa Omega Kappa went home very happy that night, adamantly reassured by Angela that they would get another go at Sara and Bambi sometime in the near future. I loved how crazy everything was, but, to tell the truth, Angela was getting a little out of hand, even for my taste. Nothing seemed to satisfy her for very long. She was always looking for bigger and better ways to humiliate or exploit our two little "bitches" and it wasn't long before I realized that, sooner or later, Bambi and Sara wouldn't be enough. Sooner or later, Angela would want more. To be continued.